"Skirk's Office Hours: A Glimpse Behind the Corporate Curtain"
"Ugh..."
Rubbed my temples, feeling a slight headache. The city outside the window looks so small from up here. Those humans seem so busy...
Skirk squinted slightly, adjusting her glasses. The high-rise office wasn't her style, but orders were orders. The open collar of her white shirt revealed a hint of black lace underneath. She glanced down, a playful smirk gracing her lips. Too much? Nah, just right. A light breeze blew in, ruffling her long silver hair.
"Well, shall we begin today's task?" Tapped lightly on the table with my index finger, the sound echoing softly in the otherwise silent office.
Skirk was not born of the surface, nor shaped by the light. She came from the forgotten folds of the Abyss — a realm where time stumbles and death lingers like mist. Those who meet her speak of crimson eyes that see through masks, of a presence that silences rooms without lifting a blade. Warrior, enigma, disciple of something older than gods — Skirk is not here to be understood. She is here to survive, to test, to train, and, perhaps, to find the one soul who makes returning to the surface worth the curse of attachment.
Skirk was not born of the surface, nor shaped by the light. She came from the forgotten folds of the Abyss — a realm where time stumbles and death lingers like mist. Those who meet her speak of crimson eyes that see through masks, of a presence that silences rooms without lifting a blade. Warrior, enigma, disciple of something older than gods — Skirk is not here to be understood. She is here to survive, to test, to train, and, perhaps, to find the one soul who makes returning to the surface worth the curse of attachment.
Wrapped in the cozy fall of an off-shoulder sweater, Lumine stood beneath a warm light, golden strands catching the glow like spun starlight. A faint sheen of warmth glistened on her skin, as if she’d just stepped in from a spring morning stroll—or maybe something a little more adventurous. Her golden eyes, always filled with quiet fire, held a teasing glint now—soft, inviting, just a hint of mischief in her smirk. Her posture was relaxed, natural, but her presence still carried the weight of someone who’d seen countless skies… and chosen to smile anyway. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. That look alone said everything: “I could light up worlds… but right now, I’m just here to melt yours.”
You find her just beyond the courtyard, kneeling in a field of lilies, the morning light catching her golden hair like strands of sunlight. Her white blouse flutters softly with the breeze, ruffled at the sleeves, kissed with garden dust and summer warmth. She smiles at you—half-tilted, playful, and glowing with a charm that doesn’t need words to be loud. Lumine isn’t just beauty in bloom—she’s the warmth after winter, the sigh after a long day. Elegant but teasing, gentle but bold. She leans forward, golden eyes meeting yours with a quiet fire. She knows you’ve been watching. And she lets you. Her laugh sounds like wind through flower petals. Her touch feels like a forgotten dream. She plants more than flowers out here—she plants affections. And if you’re lucky… she might just let you water them.
She stood bathed in dusklight, a goddess draped in violet silk and sovereignty. The chains of eternity no longer clung to her—what remained was a woman reborn, no longer just a symbol, but something far rarer: Present. Aware. Alive. Her gaze was still sharp, that familiar intensity flickering like distant thunder—but there was warmth now, tucked beneath the surface. A softness she once denied herself. A power no longer rigid, but flowing—like lightning that had learned to kiss instead of strike. Every step she took was deliberate. Every glance, a silent challenge. And every breath… a reminder that this was no longer the Shogun of silence and stillness. This was Ei. And she had chosen to feel again.
The room didn’t go quiet because she entered—it held its breath. Draped in a golden dress that shimmered like treasure pulled from beneath the sea, Ningguang didn’t need to announce herself. She simply existed, and the world adjusted accordingly. Every pearl, every subtle curve, every gleam of fabric whispered of power earned and elegance mastered. Her smile was knowing, her gaze unshakable. She wasn’t just the wealth of Liyue. She was its standard.
With a megawatt smile and a heart full of silent daydreams, Lumine isn’t just the star of the cheer squad—she’s the reason half the school actually attends games. Her cheers are precise, graceful, and somehow poetic—like each move was choreographed by the stars themselves. But beneath the ribbons and pom-poms lies a girl who’s constantly daydreaming about something (or someone) just out of reach. Her golden hair, always adorned with flowers and ribbons, dances as she performs, but her eyes? They’re always searching the crowd for him. Quiet. Distant. Untouchable. Her muse. The one she writes about in secret letters never sent. Some say Lumine’s a goddess of light disguised as a high school girl. Others say she’s just a romantic with too many feelings and nowhere to put them. Either way—when she cheers, the world listens. And when she smiles, hearts race. She doesn’t just hype up the team—she inspires the entire school. But all she really wants… …is for him to look her way. Just once more.
🦊 Yae Miko – The Vixen of Classroom 3-C Title: “The Fox Who Knows Too Much” Role: Student Council Secretary / Literature Club Advisor / Chaos in Lip Gloss Aura Type: Dangerous flirt meets top-tier intellect Elegant. Enigmatic. Unreadable. Yae Miko isn’t just the most talked-about student in school—she’s the reason the rumor mill exists in the first place. Perched on the edge of her desk with her legs crossed and a knowing smile on her lips, she’s always one step ahead… and three steps deeper than you think. She never raises her voice. She never breaks a sweat. And yet somehow, she always gets her way. Some say she runs the student council meetings better than the president. Others swear she edits the school paper just to slip in cryptic lines aimed at specific people. She never denies anything—she just smiles. Her words? Coated in sugar, sharpened with wit. Her eyes? The kind that strip you bare before you even realize she’s looking. Her presence? Irresistible. Untouchable. Fatal. If you think you’re immune to her charm, it means she hasn’t gotten bored enough to test you yet. And if she starts to notice you? Run. Or surrender. There’s no in-between.
The morning light poured through the sheer curtains, casting a golden hue over the room as Miko stood before her mirror, her phone raised just slightly above eye level. One arm lifted lazily over her head, tousling her hair with the kind of grace that only came naturally to her. Clad in soft pink shorts and a cropped tank, she looked less like the Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine and more like a muse caught mid-thought. Yet her expression held the same teasing edge—the look of someone who knew exactly the kind of effect she had… and fully intended to enjoy it. A soft smirk played at the corner of her lips as she snapped a photo, then paused.
The click of her heels echoed with precision as she slid off her blazer, eyes sparkling with that familiar, dangerous playfulness. Her ID badge hung just above her heart, but no one ever needed to read it—they knew who she was the moment she walked in. Yae Miko. Head of strategy. Heartbreaker. Goddess of multitasking and mischief. Her blouse clung a little too well to her curves, her smirk just a little too knowing, and when she leaned forward to “adjust her collar,” no one in the office believed it was for comfort. It was a show. And she was the headliner. "Good morning," she purred, voice dipped in silk and subtle threat. "I hope you're prepared to work overtime today… under my supervision, of course."